What I Wanted
by passing on the pixy dust
Summary: Ryou Bakura is not who he seems, a blank book, pen and some late night thinking allows him to tell his story. (entry for Chibizoos 2nd fanfic contest)


Title: What I Wanted

Author: Kilandra Yamitea

E-Mail: Kilandra_yamitea@badtzmail.com

Beta: Alta Lemur

Genre: psychological 

Rating: PG-13

Warnings- Depression, angst, yaoi, sadism and masochism all mentioned at some point. 

Summary: Ryou Bakura is not who he seems. 

_*_*_

Ryou glanced at the red glow of the clock, 12:38 it read. He sat up and switched on the lamp. He blinked as he grew accustomed to the light again, pausing he looked about and waited for any noise. There was only silence. He let out a relieved breath.

Then Ryou pulled open the bedside table's drawer. From within he pulled a blank book and a pen, setting them on his comforter.

He then struggled to sit up in his bed. Once comfortable, he opened the book and placed his pen on the page.

He took a breath and began to write.

_*_*_

Want. 

Everyone wants something out of life, except me. I didn't want anything. At first I thought maybe I just didn't know what I wanted, but years have passed and nothing drove me. I didn't want anything.

I, Ryou Bakura. The light. The pure, innocent boy. 

That's what they all thought. That's what I wanted them to think, what we wanted. But it was all an act. And it's time to drop the act. I want to, even if I won't be around to see their reactions. That I would enjoy.

See, my intuition tells me that I won't be around much longer, whether by my own fault or another's. I doubt I'll be here to see the end, so it's time to "come out," if you will, because no one knows the whole story. And it needs to be told. I want it to be told.

I remember vividly the day I got the ring. It was a warm day in April when my father came home. I was thirteen, and old enough by my father's standards to be left alone during his last digs. Sure, he'd had friends check in on me and give me rides, but I was still basically on my own. 

Excuse me while I digress. You see, I wasn't a normal thirteen year old boy. True, anyone who knew me would have said I was very mature and so on, but they never knew what made me different. I was edging on clinical depression the whole time, yet managed to keep a pleasant demeanor around those around me. No one suspected a thing. And I didn't want them to. 

I had recently started cutting my arms, a thing that still continues. I'm something of a masochist, I guess. Although then anything I did rarely left more than an angry red line, disappearing by morning, I didn't dig deeper 'til later.  I think it was more about the possibility of the injury than actually hurting myself at that point. But hell, I didn't know then and I still don't understand what the hell was going through my head at that time.

I'm also bisexual if you didn't already know, that's never been an issue with me though, well minimally, but it was never a cause of trouble or problems. 

Well, the night of my father's return we had a big home cooked meal, and afterwards he had given me the ring. He pulled it out of a cloth lined wooden box and mentioned a bit about it's history- something about duel monsters, a new fad at school that I'd dabbled in. I was fascinated and thanked him, then retreated to my room for the night. 

I toyed with the ring, holding it at different angles and playing with the dangling spikes. I experimentally ran one of the points down my forearm. A red line had appeared against my pale skin. I pressed it harder, tempting fate to make it cut me. I'd gotten the hang of knives and sharp objects over the past two months. I knew when to stop so I wouldn't bleed and no lasting mark would be left.

But whether by my own carelessness or possibly the power of the ring, it had cut me and I started to bleed. The only thought in my head had been, "Shit." With my father home I couldn't afford having a cut on my arm. I went quickly into the bathroom and locked the door; I washed the cut, swearing the whole time. I was so busy concentrating I hadn't realize what the ring was doing, and when I looked up at myself in the mirror, I saw two of me. Even more jolted than before, I whirled around and realized that I wasn't just imagining things.

Bakura had grinned his classic smirk that scares Yugi and his groupies.  That was my first image of Bakura. He looked me up and down silently, still grinning. "You'll do just fine..." he said, although mostly to himself rather than me, I thought.

I just stared at him for a second, unsure of what I was seeing and hearing. "What the hell are you?" I demanded, finding my voice.

"My name is Bakura. You have released me from the ring. I am a spirit." 

He spoke like someone out of a badly dubbed film. You know, the lips move but you can't hear anything? I learned later it was because he was using magic to translate his words so I could understand him. He had spoken in Egyptian, but I had heard Japanese. He also had to translate what I said in order to understand me. It was all very odd first week, until he learned Japanese with the use of my memory.

Back to the point. I was very confused. One doesn't usually meet a spirit who's one's identical twin. I was aggravated. My father could come in at any moment, I had blood on me, and Bakura had spoken like a toddler. I picked up the ring; "That's very lovely, but how about you go back. I have no need for a spirit."

"I have need for you though," he said simply, still wearing that smug look. Wow, I had wanted to hit him then.

 Before I could comment I heard my father.

"Ryou?" he called.

"I'm in the bathroom, dad. I'm getting ready for bed," I called, giving Bakura a glare and praying he said nothing.

"Good. Get to bed soon, you have school tomorrow." 

"I know, I'll get to bed soon."

"Good night, Ryou."

"Good night." I watched the door and listened to his footsteps walk away, before turning to Bakura.

Only Bakura had disappeared.

As I went to bed I wondered if I was hallucinating. I wanted to believe I was normal, or at least as normal as a depressed, bisexual, masochist can get. Sadly, I found out later that I wasn't. Bakura appeared more often, and the reality of him set in.

I won't bother with the details of the early days, Bakura and I had bonded quickly and his plans for gathering the items were revealed to me. 

Our plan was simple-I was to continue acting as normal, while we went after them. Eventually Yami would discover Bakura was back. At that point I'd play the victim, and gain trust and sympathy from my "friends."

One might wonder why I wanted to help Bakura gather the items. Well, most of the idea of unlimited power sounded just fine to me. I didn't really want it. I never _really_ wanted anything, except in the moment that I took the deal and agreed to help Bakura. Besides, it was a game, and I loved it. I loved watching them as they thought they'd figured us out. But love and want is not the same. I enjoyed the game and still do, but I never really wanted it.

The first time Yugi figured anything out was during the shadow duel in duelist kingdom. It'd been a year and a half I'd had the ring and everything started then. After finding out what each of their favorite cards was, Bakura sent us all into a shadow duel, though Bakura and I didn't win. We didn't want to. I 'turned' on Bakura and helped Yami. It was a calculated risk to step up their ideas of me.  Bakura knew he'd get banished to the shadow realm when he lost.  That didn't worry him. He'd be back with me within a day, and he was. Later we reconvened and worked out what was next. We'd gotten a glimpse of Yami's deck, exactly what we wanted, although we didn't manage to get rid of Yugi's friends. That was disappointing. I blame Bakura's dueling skills for that.

But then Bakura did some foolish things in the castle. He tried to go after Mokuba's body. He figured it'd be an easy way to give us more opportunity. We'd be able to use Seto against Yami as well. Bakura had forgotten that all of the pharaoh's friends wanted to kill him so that I could be "free."  Tristen threw the ring into the forest, and that took much longer than I wished to find it again. I had to sneak out of the castle while Yami was dueling Pegasus to find it with only a weak link to Bakura to guide me. Well, I had gotten it back, and I proceeded to bitch at Bakura about it for a very long time. However, we did get the eye from Pegasus. That was something.

But that wasn't enough. That was barely anything. Then it came, this, the fucking reason I'm dying!  It came in one word.

Malik.

Malik Ishtar, and the damned tournament. Malik Ishtar is another psycho. I have one already. Hell I am one. I did not need another screwing with my life.

But I got one.

Aren't I lucky? 

Bakura and I pulled our act when we met Malik. He was evil, and I was just the host-simple. I sat and watched as Bakura handled Malik. Malik and Bakura's banter was entertaining. I watched them through Bakura's eyes. Then Bakura stabbed my arm. Bastard. He claimed it was all part of the act. 

 I say it was because he's a sadist and wanted to watch me suffer. 

Whatever the reason though *I* was the one taken to the hospital. *I* was weakened and useless.

I had become baggage to Bakura. His new alliance with Malik caused him to ignore me and throw our work aside. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to at least do something, but I couldn't - one other thing about Bakura and me. 

Now we weren't _lovers_, per say, but damn well close. Fucking became second nature to the thievery and murder with us. I felt betrayed when he teamed with Malik. I was his partner and "lover," and now I felt jilted. He had grown to be my only personal tie and he was leaving me to rot.  You'd get pissed too.

Of course, I quickly found some information that put me back in with Bakura.

Malik had, and probably still does, an obsession with me. He wanted me. 

Well, at least the innocent light he thought I was.

Once Bakura figured this out, he was back with me plotting for us to use Malik's interest to get the Sennen rod without messing too much with the tournament.

But time was short, and instead we continued according to Malik's plan, and dueled our way onto the blimp.

We got the locator cards needed to find the arena, with Malik thinking it was just Bakura doing what he'd told him. Of course I was in control. It was safer that way.  Impossible for the pharaoh and gang to realize the real reason, I was there as long as I kept my words careful. 

And I did. 

Of course I managed to scare Jounochi with a vague recount of my duel with Bones, the baka freaked when I hinted about how I forced Bones to give me locator cards. Maybe not the most advisable move but enjoyable to watch nonetheless. 

Back to Malik. He wanted me and I obliged, 'unwilling' of course. Why would pure Ryou want such a twisted boy? 

Ha. Now that was a fun encounter. It happened the night before we walked onto the battle ship. 

"Are you scared of me?" Malik asked softly, bodies close. Thrill evident in his eyes.

I had to play the scene right, be "Ryou" enough to not rouse suspicion while getting Bakura's and my goal accomplished. I stayed silent, but turned my eyes away, letting a soft blush grace my face. I was in control.

Malik circled me and stood behind me, body pressed close and breath hovering just above my ear. I had tensed my body in accordance with the act. I could practically hear him smirk. I felt soft kisses on my neck as he continued slowly, "I won't hurt you, but…" He switched sides, " you *will* do as I ask, everything."

I nodded slowly, letting my breath hitch to enhance the act. Shivers ran through me, but not of fear like he assumed. His touch had been intoxicating and my mission drifted farther from my mind the more I felt. By the end of the night I couldn't have cared less about getting the Sennen rod. I wanted Malik too, and I let him know it. It fit with the act. Let him believe he had power over me.

He wasn't supposed to have the power, just think he did. But I had underestimated the stunningly beautiful and psychotic Egyptian, and now he did have power over me.

Bakura knew it too, he can read people. He realized what had happened with Malik and lashed out, possibly because of jealousy and defiantly because I'd screwed up, literally. It didn't help when we lost to the pharaoh soon afterward. That was Malik's fault. He never should have forced Bakura and me to switch places.  I almost broke our act at that point and stormed over to beat the crap out of Malik. Of course that'd lose us the duel. It wouldn't have mattered though, since we lost anyway. 

And I took the damage. I was bedridden and ready to get vengeance against Malik

Then Malik took the ring. That was the last straw, or at least it would have been if I could have walked, which I couldn't. I rarely seem to get what I want.  Instead I seem to have a knack becoming incapacitated.

So Bakura is currently with Malik, and I'm the invalid! My act and cooperation got him there, and he screws me over again! Or rather Malik did, I guess. It's his interference that started all this. Bakura and I were doing fine before. 

Now we're not, now I'm barely capable of movement and Malik's yami has been unleashed. That surprised me. Someone as dark as he has a yami? Granted, I do too, but I got worse when I met Bakura. I wonder if it was similar for Malik, although I don't really care. It's just more pain if I get involved with people. Bakura's caused me enough pain by himself. 

I stopped caring about most things ages ago. And no matter how pissed I get and how much I get hurt I never really care. I get impulses, sure, but nothing lasting. Hell, I'll probably burn this three minutes after I finish it. I'll have changed my mind about wanting someone to know. My life became a pantomime of reality long ago, and I rarely mean anything anymore. Of course, I wasn't always like this.

Once upon a time a little boy wanted nothing more than to see his daddy once a month, to hug his mother, and to watch his little sister learn to walk.

I never got any of that. My mother and sister died in a car crash when I was five. Little Amane was one, and had just learned to stand. My father was lucky to make it home three times a year-Christmas, my birthday, and Easter. I never got anything I wanted.

So now what do I want?

Nothing.

What do I get?

Pain, anger, hate, lust, and one hell of strange life. 

And I do would nothing to change that.

So go ahead, classify me as whatever you want: insane, bipolar, psychotic, depressed, borderline. Go ahead and make up a new "disease" if you really want.

Then someone might get what they want at least.

_*_*_

Ryou smirked and leaned back. He watched the book as if he was waiting for something.

Nothing happened, and with one last sigh he placed the book and pen inside the drawer again. 

"I guess you get to survive tonight at least," he mumbled to himself, although he was certain that he'd want to destroy it in the morning so no one would read it.

But since when did Ryou ever get what he wanted?

_*Owari*_

Reviews are appreciated; please email me if you're kinda confused.


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